Fifty Shades of Firsts
by smilelaughread
Summary: A collection of (to-be) 50 drabbles about various firsts that couples go through. Written for a challenge at HPFC. Currently: Sirius/Remus, first spontaneous time travel.
1. First Illness - Hermione and Ron

_First Illness_

* * *

"You've never had the chicken pox before?" Hermione asked incredulously.

Ron looked up at her, sickly pale and spotted. "No. And before you ask again, I've never been immunized either."

Hermione sputtered, still shocked. She'd known he was sick when he'd floo-called her earlier that day, complaining of a fever that a potion hadn't been able to bring down. She'd only just gotten home from work to find him with chicken pox - the childhood illness that she'd assumed everyone had gone through. How strange that wizards hadn't figured out a way to prevent it, she thought.

"Should I call a Healer?" she asked, trying hard to keep the volume of her voice at a minimum. "Maybe-"

Ron just groaned.

Hermione had done all she could, but simple healing spells were not enough to soothe his discomfort. She leaned over him to kiss his forehead softly, and he seemed to like that, because a small smile stretched his lips. Something beeped from the kitchen, and she remembered the soup she had put on in a desperate attempt to take his mind off of the itching - food always worked miracles for Ron.

When she returned, bringing him a warm bowl of soup, she found that his eyes were closed in sleep. Still, he seemed anything but comfortable. Tension lined his muscles, and there were creases between his eyebrows.

"Oh, my baby," she whispered with a sad smile. It hurt her to see him so sick.

Holding a warm, wet cloth to his forehead, Hermione worked carefully to smooth back the hairs that had gotten stuck to the sheen of sweat that covered his forehead. Muttering to herself about his irresponsibility, she pulled the blanket back up around him, pushing it under his arms and tucking it under his legs.

Their little flat was cold, it seemed, because in spite of her coddling, he was still shivering. Hermione's teeth worried at her bottom lip, but she did nothing more than carefully sit on the sofa where his legs were. She pointed her wand at the small fireplace and whispered some spells - careful not to wake Ron - that would start the fire again. Cradled in her arms was the soup, though Hermione knew it would be cold before he'd awaken.

No matter, she'd wait.

Pulling his legs onto her lap so that she could lean all the way back, Hermione tried to recall what her experience with chicken pox had been. A few days of itching, and she still had a scar on her shoulder to show for that discomfort, but it had been over soon.

He murmured something quietly, and Hermione soothingly shushed him, relaxing into the cushion. A little rest was overdue for her as well. It wouldn't do to risk getting sick due to fatigue.

"You'll be okay," she promised the sleeping Ron. "We'll get you back to full health soon."

Her fingers were still wrapped around the bowl that rested in her lap, just in case he awoke hungry. With that, Hermione joined Ron in slumber, eyes fluttering closed.


	2. Meeting the Family - Sirius and Remus

_First Family Dinner_

* * *

"So - er - Mum, this is Sirius. I've told you about him."

Sirius, usually outgoing, seemed to wilt under the intensity of Mrs. Lupin's gaze.

"Yes," she said, "he's just as you described."

Remus felt an inquisitive look shot at him from Sirius' direction and felt his cheeks redden, heat spreading down his neck.

"You also, um, know that-"

Remus was cut off by his mother when she stepped forward and extended one arm to Sirius. The dark-haired boy looked at her offered hand with something akin to terror, and hesitated before taking the hand and shaking it.

"If Remus thinks you're good enough for him," she sniffed, "then we welcome you. Dinner will be served shortly. Remus, your father will be down soon."

With that, she left them alone in the small foyer. As soon as she was gone through the doorway, presumably leaving to the dining room or kitchen, Sirius' hand sought Remus'. There was a very clear desperation in the move, and their fingers tangled together almost painfully. They squeezed, seeking comfort.

"Your father is going to murder me," Sirius whimpered, and Remus couldn't help but worry as well. His father was not known for being particularly friendly to strangers - especially not ones that came to his house and were immediately presented as his son's boyfriend.

"You need to be calm," Remus said, trying to contain the wavering of his voice. "We have to convince him that we're good together."

"We _are_ good together."

"I know, Sirius, but he has never seen us together. First impressions are long-lasting."

There was a pause. "Yup. He's definitely going to murder me."

Remus' nervous laugh was cut short by the quick kiss Sirius landed on his lips. He was tempted to deepen it, to lose himself in time and allow himself to be distracted by the feeling of Sirius against him. Of course, it was not the time or place.

Someone behind them cleared their throat, and Remus heard warning bells go off in his head immediately. Of all the times to be caught...

Sirius tore himself from Remus with haste. It seemed that all the blood had rushed from his body, leaving him pale and frozen in place. He looked up at Remus' father - who stood almost a head taller than both of them - with a look of great discomfort on his face.

"Excuse me," Remus' father was the first to break the heavy silence. "I don't believe we've met."

Sirius had lost control of his tongue. "I-I-I'm Sirius. Black. Sirius Black. We haven't-it's a pleasure to meet you, sir."

Mr. Lupin nodded sharply. "Remus' mother and I are very happy to have you over for dinner. Please, step into the kitchen."

Sirius walked through the doorway on shaky legs, throwing worried looks over his shoulder. Remus warily looked at his father. He was incredibly stunned to see a small smile on the older man's face.

"I have to intimidate him," he told Remus, eyes twinkling. "Especially after catching that little display. _Please,_ Remus, hands above the covers."

Remus felt himself turn a deep shade of red-purple, shame and embarrassment flooding through him.

At the same time, however, he felt unimaginable relief that his father hadn't rejected Sirius or their relationship. He'd practically been civil!

Not paying attention, he nearly bumped into Sirius as he stepped forward. His boyfriend was frozen just a few steps into the next room. Sirius seemed to be choking, looked incredibly stressed, and all but collapsed when Remus' father followed into the room just seconds later.

"I-I promise. I wouldn't-." Sirius gulped, eyes wide.

Remus' father let out a deep laugh. "There's no need to apologize. I was a teenager once, too."

That made Remus feel sick as well, and caused his father to laugh once more.

At least the night was off to a good start, Remus thought weakly. No murder, no problem.


	3. First Study Session - James and Lily

_Strong, violet, historic - for the School of Prompts Challenge at HPFC. 1.1: 300 words._

 _First study session_

* * *

James squinted at the pages of the book. He turned his head one way, then the other. The little picture on the page still made no sense to him.

"Lily," he whined, "I don't understand."

She sighed. James watched as she pushed some hair back behind her ear, though her movements were automatic and distracted. All of her attention was focused, very intently, on the book in front of her. The quill she picked up again was quickly put to use as she scribbled some notes down on the parchment beside her.

James looked to his own empty parchment and groaned inwardly.

It was late in the afternoon, and the library was slowly emptying. To James, it didn't make sense that they were still studying.

Apparently, to Lily, relaxation came second to studying. He suspected she was being particularly stubborn because she was still testing how committed he was to their relationship. Ridiculous—but probably effective, he had to admit.

Luckily, relaxation came second to Lily for him.

Though, preferably, second to a Lily who was relaxing, not studying.

A strong wave of fatigue rolled over him at the reminder of his homework, and finally caved. Placing the book down on the table, he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. They'd been at it for at least an hour, though it felt like four.

"Are you sure that we can't take a break?"

"Only if you tell me what that picture is, including the whole story behind the stones." she answered. There was a mischievous glimmer in her eye, and she even bookmarked her page and set her book and quill down to turn to him expectantly.

Flustered by her sudden attention, James felt a desperate desire to impress her. He looked back at the violet stones depicted in his History of Magic book. There was some historical relevance to them, he was sure, but exactly what that was escaped him.

Not even the dimmest flicker of recognition was present in his mind, and he looked back to Lily helplessly. She raised an eyebrow, small smile on her lips, and then started to giggle.

"Maybe we _should_ take a break," she said placatingly. "You're more tired than I thought if you're looking at the jewels from Merlin's own wand like that. Just a tip for next time: hold the book the right way up. It makes reading the words that describe everything _much_ easier to read."

James let his head fall forward and come into contact with the table with a dull _thunk_ when he realized she was right—he'd been holding the book the wrong way. What was he to do when Lily was so distracting and when studying was so boring?

"Don't be dramatic," she chided, laughing, and James thought the studying might just be worth it to hear her laugh. She nudged his shoulder. "Besides, don't waste our break time—don't we have some extracurricular studying to do?"

James' head shot up at that, and he was immediately interested. He met her eyes to find an invitation, and practically leapt to cross the distance between them. They were kissing before she could even take another breath, both smiling into it.


	4. First Camping Trip - Ginny and Harry

_Higher, craft, smoke - for the School of Prompts Challenge at HPFC. 1.3: 700 words._

 _First camping trip_

* * *

"Harry, can you keep up?" Ginny called over her shoulder, looking back at the frazzled-looking Harry. His hair, always a mess, looked more like a bird's nest than anything, and his glasses kept slipping down his nose.

Both were breathing hard after their hike, so Ginny took pity on him and took a break under the canopy of a large tree as she waited for him to cross the remaining hundred metres between them.

"Sorry… I… This is harder than I thought," he said, panting.

"My family used to do this every year," Ginny said, smiling, "and I remember being really young—the climb seemed impossible."

"Did you just call me a baby?" Harry looked mildly amused and thankfully not offended.

Ginny let out a bark of laughter, reaching one hand out. He took it with no hesitation, and she pulled him close for a tight hug.

"We're almost there," she promised. "The rest is easy from there, thanks to _magic_. Count your blessings: at least you didn't have to carry a tent up that trail without shrinking charms."

He'd been complaining the whole way up about the wisdom of not taking advantage of their ability to apparate, and she'd spent about as much time explaining that it was the journey up through the forest that was the most fun.

"My legs are _aching_ ," he groaned, and Ginny had to bite back some more laughter.

"Just a few more minutes. You're supposed to be an Auror in the peak of his athletic capabilities, aren't you? You can manage."

Harry grumbled, but she knew that he'd be silenced soon enough when they reached the camping spot. It was a little clearing from which they'd have a very nice view of the surrounding area.

He'd probably be stubborn about it, but Ginny knew the effect was the same on everyone—complete amazement.

* * *

Fire-building was a craft that Ginny had learned from many trips with her family. Magic simply wasn't good enough or long-lasting enough to replace the muggle way, at least according to her father, and Ginny was not one to break such a precious family tradition.

Harry's total confusion was almost comical, though she knew she had to take everything slowly—no sense scaring him on his first camping trip. The Quidditch World Cup trip was nothing compared to what had been in store for him with this one.

"Come sit with me," she said once she was happy with the flames. He returned the smile she shot him, and then took the seat next to her on the blanket she'd laid out beside the fire.

One arm came to rest around her. Ginny leaned into his embrace with a happy smile on her face, watching as the flames licked ever higher, sending sparks and smoke to rise in the cool evening air.

"Thanks for coming with me," she said, nuzzling her nose into the crook of his neck.

"I'll even forgive you for the walk up here," he said, "because you were right: this place is perfect."

Peace settled in around them as they sat and watched the sun slowly dip below the horizon. The sky changed colours, fading from blue to purple to orange and pink. Birds flew leisurely, and there were few clouds to block their view. Once the sun was out of sight, leaving behind a hazy orange glow for just a few minutes, they had the fire to replace it for heat and light.

"What's your favourite memory from this spot?" Harry asked, breaking their comfortable silence. He removed his hand from behind her and adjusted his position so he could comfortably lay down beside her. He curled on one side, keeping her in sight, and she decided to join him.

Lowering herself beside him, Ginny thought back to many years of trips to the little spot with the whole Weasley clan.

"You know that I'm a lot younger than most of my siblings," she began slowly, "and that meant that they really didn't pay attention to me. I was too young to understand what they were going through, blah, blah, blah. I remember that once, I was sitting right where we are now and all my brothers came to sit with me. We were quiet, arms over each other's shoulders, and I seem to remember my mother crying and taking a few pictures—she'd probably never seen so many of us in one spot without arguments ensuing."

A small smile played with Harry's lips as Ginny returned to the present.

"That's so nice," he said sincerely. "Still, as great as that sounds, I'm glad they're not all here with us today."

Ginny agreed wholeheartedly and cracked a smile. They both moved forward to exchange a small, loving kiss.

Then, as though they'd agreed on it, they both turned onto their backs to stare up at the black sky that was sprinkled with tiny pinpricks of light. Their hands connected between them, fingers searching and locking together.

The fire crackled happily beside them so they were not in total silence, and they were both lulled to a well-needed (by Harry, at least) sleep, comfortable and safe.


	5. Ministry Function - Ginny and Harry

Sapphire - for the School of Prompts Challenge at HPFC. 2.2: 350+ words.

 _First Ministry Function_

* * *

The minutes left before the beginning of the Ministry function were dwindling, leaving Harry with a growing ball of stress in the pit of his stomach. Exactly zero percent of him had any desire to attend, but Kingsley had deliberately - and publicly - invited him and announced his (hesitant) acceptance to everyone who would be attending. Of course, it made sense for him to go - given that it was to celebrate the end of the war - but after everything, putting on a show about it was highly unappealing.

Harry frowned at his shiny shoes, shifting his weight from one leg to the other as he waited for Ginny to finish getting ready. She had promised him that the night would be fun, and she was truly the only hope he could hold onto for a bearable night.

Memories of those months of danger would come back, he was sure. He'd be forced to make some kind of speech. Without Ginny by his side, it would all be a highly unenjoyable experience - except for the food, possibly. With her, it might be okay. More than that, Ginny had done a spectacular job of preventing him from changing his mind in the last minute.

A small smile tugged at his lips when he thought of her and all the support she gave him - not unreciprocated, of course. She was more than he deserved and exactly the company he needed, and he would never stop being grateful for her.

Then, he remembered where it was they were going that night, and his mood plummeted again.

"Are you ready?" Ginny called down the stairs, voice echoing slightly.

It was strange to see have the Burrow all to themselves, but most of the Weasley family was on vacation - Molly and Arthur had gone somewhere peaceful, and the eldest Weasley boys had mostly done the same. George was probably already at the Ministry, and Ron was at Hermione's, getting ready. Silent as it was in the house, Harry's anticipation grew with every soft footfall he heard as she descended the steps.

Harry's jaw dropped - almost literally - when she finally stepped into his line of sight. She wore a sapphire blue dress that hung down to the floor. The bodice, fitted and subtly shimmery, looked smooth to the touch.

There was nervousness written all over her face as she waited for his reaction.

"You look fantastic," he said, unable to contain his grin.

A blush settled on her cheeks, and she pushed one of the twin tendrils of red hair that hung down on either side of her face behind her ear.

"Thank you," she said, giving him a small smile in return. "This was a gift from Charlie, but I've never had a chance to wear it. I thought it might make tonight special for me and hopefully for you, too."

He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her in for a hug. His cheek rested against the side of her head, and he could smell her fruity perfume. A few hours with her by his side suddenly sounded like the best idea in the world.

"I'm ready," he finally answered. Then, in a promise to himself and to her, he added, "Tonight is going to be brilliant."


	6. First Child - Luna and Neville

_White - for the School of Prompts Challenge at HPFC. 2.3: 100+ words, u_ se your color as the theme/tone for/of your story.

 _First child_

* * *

After hours of pain and pressure, stretching and groaning, swearing and abuse, Luna finally relaxed into the hospital bed. Her skin was wet with sweat, and her golden hair stuck to her face along the rivulets of moisture. To Neville, the smoothness of her features after the struggle inspired overwhelming relief.

Neville also looked the worse for wear, yet continued to hold her hand - his other was occupied in cradling their daughter.

Luna couldn't see past the white noise that crowded her mind, but she heard the baby's first cries, and that was enough to let loose a soothing waterfall to wash away all other memories of the natural childbirth she'd endured.

Everything was peaceful and done, at least on their parts.

Luna's fingers twitched in Neville's grasp, and he squeezed back. Tranquility settled over the two of them, though the new third member of their little family screamed to announce her presence from her very first breath. Even the rebellion powered by tiny lungs was not enough to pop the bubble of contentment that had encased them.

She was healthy, of good weight and colour, and Neville was _finally holding her_. She was tiny and delicate in his arms. Nine months, and he was finally meeting her.

The nurses and other Mediwitches rushed around them. They were talking loudly in curt tones. They cleaned in a chaotic frenzy.

Neville had eyes for his daughter, nothing more.

Peace, comfort, and safety were bundled up with the tiny, red-faced baby.

Luna made weak motions with her arms, wanting to hold their baby girl, and Neville slowly lowered the squirming baby into his wife's arms. She smiled at the contact, though her eyes were closed in pure exhaustion and bliss. Neville felt his heart swell with love for Luna and their daughter, watching as the little girl relaxed. She was once again in her mother's arms, free to hear the heartbeat that had guided her in her growth for so long.

Even a muggle picture wouldn't have been still enough to depict how the moment left him feeling frozen in time.

He'd never forget those few seconds - not ever, he promised himself.

A tear - one of many, though he hadn't noticed - rolled down his cheek, curving slightly in its path when it encountered the lines on his cheeks from the unstoppable smile that stretched them. It fell, ignored, to the cool white tiles of the hospital room. Neville pulled his chair even closer to the bed and dropped his head forward across the thin railing to rest on Luna's shoulder, feeling his daughter's soft breaths against his forehead.

Together, the family rested.


	7. First Time-Out - Hermione and Ron

_First time-out_

* * *

"Ronald!" Hermione called as she stepped over the threshold to their apartment after the single longest day she'd ever experienced at work. "Why didn't you put away the dishes like I asked?"

He came out of the bathroom and fixed her with a look that told her he was not in a good mood. "It's nice to see you, too," he said with an edge to his tone that Hermione resented. She stomped to the kitchen and started putting away the clean dishes with jerky movements.

"Why do I have to do everything around here?" she asked no one, and angrily shrugged off his hands when they rested on her shoulders. "Did you water the plants?"

"Er... no," he admitted, and she heard him fumble around the cupboard under the sink to find their small watering can.

Anger bubbled within her, though it was probably caused of exasperation and exhaustion, not Ron.

"Did you call your mum?" Hermione's voice was rough and weak.

"What?" he shouted from the next room. "I can't hear you."

"Your mum," she repeated through clenched teeth when he had returned. "Did you call her?"

"No," Ron said, and Hermione turned to give him a questioning look, catching a strange twist to his words. "But I will once we have a little talk. Hermione Weasley, I'm giving you a time-out."

She threw her hands up. "What? Don't be ridiculous. We have to eat - rather, I have to cook somethi-"

He'd silenced her. Hermione felt herself tense up, shocked that he'd cast a spell against her. She didn't take his proffered hand, but reluctantly followed him to the living room to sit on a sofa across from the seat he took on the coffee table.

"Hermione," he began. "I want you to think about your attitude, because I've tried being reasonable and supportive for weeks. All I've seen is you feeling worse and worse, so I felt I needed to step in."

He waved his wand in her direction, and Hermione felt speech return to her. With another icy glare at him, she finally spoke.

"I am not a child," she said, "so don't treat me like one."

"Maybe you should stop acting like one!"

" _I'm_ the child here? Let's look at the ever-responsible Ron who can't put five dishes away to make my life easier."

"I got home about five minutes before you. We know that work is killing us both - don't act like your life is so much harder than mine!"

"Work is _not_ killing me." She crossed her arms and leaned back, suddenly defensive.

"Hermione, you're not in third year anymore," he said. "You don't need to overwork yourself. If you need to take time off, everyone will understand."

"I'm fine!" she screeched, though her anger was momentarily replaced with a sheepish expression at the noise she'd caused. Calmer and quieter, she said, "I know work has been hard, but I'm not about to give up."

Ron's lips were pursed as he weighed her words in his mind. "Hermione, I'm not asking you to give up. I'm asking you to consider our relationship and your health - mental and physical. Your work is much more active than mine, and you sleep much less than I do-"

"Because _some people_ just fall asleep at the drop of a hat and leave the work to the rest of us-" she muttered.

"Irrelevant! I'm willing to work on my behaviour and help you more if you agree to do the same for yourself. I'm worried about you, Hermione."

"If you were worried, you'd help me instead of ignoring everything I say!"

"I don't ignore you! I would have done it eventually."

Her mouth twisted in a scowl. _"Eventually_ means that you'd settle for having takeout every night just because the containers are disposable!"

"That's not true and you know it!"

"I don't know anything. At least, that's what you seem to be saying." Hermione was practically blowing smoke from her ears.

"Listen, even if the first five sentences from your mouth today hadn't been nagging questions, I would have had this conversation with you. I know you haven't been sleeping well. I know you're running on almost no energy. You can't imagine how impressed I am with everything you can do, but I'm also worried. Besides, you haven't asked me how my day was."

"That's a bit self-absorbed." There was no power behind her words. He looked lost, sad, and more than a little upset. Hermione felt the numb exhaustion leave her for a second, replaced by guilt.

"I'm sorry," she said. One hand moved to smooth down her hair in an unconscious gesture, and Ron bit down on a smile. He knew that little mannerism of hers, knew it meant she was thinking. That's all he'd wanted, a little bit of thought about the important things.

After the war, they had to relearn how to take care of themselves, and he'd be damned if he let Hermione work herself to death. Though she was doing incredibly valuable work, she'd be no use to anyone worked to death. More importantly than that, he didn't know what he'd do if she did real damage to herself and if he didn't at least try to help.

"I... Fine-How was your day, Ron?" Hermione asked, breaking the silence.

Ron grinned, finally able to share the news that he'd been holding in.

"I talked to Harry at work. Ginny's pregnant," he said. "I wanted to wait to tell you in person, because I know you love-"

Hermione's arms were around him as she crashed forward, pushing him down on the table. She was shaking, just slightly, and Ron could feel the warm kisses she was landing on the skin of his neck. He managed to place one on the top of her head before she moved out of reach.

"I'm so happy for them," she gushed, finally relaxing. "Oh Merlin, Harry's going to be a _father."_

She pulled back, eyes wide and brimming with happy tears. A grin split her face, a far cry from the stress he'd read there earlier.

"Ron, it'll be beautiful. We have to go wish them well. We should go right now. I'll bring some food - maybe we can have dinner there, or maybe they could come here. Do you think we could go to The Burrow? I'm sure they're all there."

"Sorry," he said, shrugging. "I simply can't allow that. You're not allowed anywhere for the rest of the night."

She raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"You're in a time-out," he answered, "remember? And you will be in one for the rest of the night. I'll bring you food. I'll call Mum. I'll come back and ask about your day. You just sit, relax, and think. We'll visit _the Potters_ tomorrow."

She gave him a look that told him she wasn't impressed, but he heard no more complaints from her.

Thank Merlin. He was still quaking in his boots from the yelling earlier. Hermione looked an awful lot like his Mum when she was angry.

Despite the anger that had filled his and Hermione's little flat for weeks, he could feel that better things were to come. He loved Hermione with all of his heart, and knew she loved him just as fiercely. Perhaps they weren't quite ready for a family of their own - he knew Hermione wanted her career just as much as they both wanted children - but they were going to work on their relationship and get there slowly.

That said, his mum was probably bursting with the thought of more grandchildren, he thought. With that in mind, he grabbed the floo powder and threw it into the fireplace, ready to see the feast his mother had probably pulled together in celebration for Harry and Ginny.

Just before the flames turned green, Hermione called, "I can't believe I'm in a time-out, but I love you, Ron - thank you!" Then, after a short pause and a little giggle, she said, "And tell your mum that I say hello."

"I love you, too," he said right back, finally fully content with his actions of the night. His smile refused to go away. Then, to the fire, he said, "The Burrow!"


	8. Trip to the Dentist - Hermione and Ron

_First trip to a muggle dentist_

* * *

"I'm sorry," Ron said, pleading ring to his tone. "Please, Hermione. I didn't mean to eat all that food with Harry. I didn't mean to eat all the sweets Mum packed. It'll never happen again. I promise."

Hermione, looking cool with her hands on the steering wheel of their rented car, shot him a look.

"I'm glad to hear that," she said, "but that means next to nothing. We're almost there, anyhow."

"I don't _want_ to go to the dentist!" Ron's hands found the glass of the window beside him, frantically searching for a way out.

"Maybe you'll remember this sentiment the next time you ignore all my instructions about cleaning your teeth."

"No, please. I promise I won't ignore them again! Please, Hermione. A Healer will suffice. We don't have to do this."

Hermione simply shook her head. Ron had tried apparating, he'd tried pleading, and he'd promised her almost everything under the sun, but her mind (and an anti-apparition ward) was set.

"We haven't been round to see my parents in a while," she said mildly.

A strangled groan caught in Ron's throat as he fumbled with his seatbelt, trying to figure out exactly how to get himself out. Perhaps he could jump through the window. _Why oh why hadn't he listened when it was time?_

Some classical music, set on quiet by Hermione, was finally audible again when Ron quieted down. He'd surrendered, feeling completely exhausted. If all of his teeth were pulled out painfully, he'd only have Hermione to blame. She'd probably regret the day for years to come. That thought comforted him a little, at least until he remembered that it also included him _having his teeth removed_ rather violently.

"Hermione," he tried one last-ditch attempt before they pulled into a parking space across from the Grangers' practice. Ron had been there exactly once, heard a lot of pained screaming, and had never returned, though Hermione swore that the screaming was probably from a patient reading their bill rather than being slowly tortured. "Hermione, I will do _anything_ if you turn around right now."

Hermione turned to him, one hand on the wheel. Her torso faced him, and her position briefly shielded his eyes from the sun that was streaming in from her side. Squinting, he locked eyes with her, and his stomach sank when he recognized the determination he found there.

"It won't be so bad," she promised in a tone that was softer than she'd been using in the days since his first complaints about toothaches. "And it's necessary. Besides, I called ahead and Mum is waiting for us."

"Your _mum?_ "

That woman scared him and Hermione knew it, but Ron's fright was met with incredibly little sympathy.

Hermione clicked the button that would release him, but suddenly Ron didn't want to be let out of the car. He'd be content to drive around for days and days if only he didn't have to get out and have his teeth looked at. He clung to the seatbelt in spite of Hermione's raised eyebrow.

"What kind of a Gryffindor are you, Ron?" Hermione chided, smiling enigmatically. "This is your chance to prove yourself to my father."

Ron reddened, remembering her father's less-than-enthusiastic attitude towards him, but the challenge had been set - probably on purpose, that sneaky witch.

"I'll do it," he announced, voice wavering far less than he'd expected. He felt a little sick. "I'm not even scared. Ha ha."

She laughed a little, though it quieted when faced with his indignant glare.

"Fine." she said. "Ron, I know you can do it. There's no need to be frightened."

Ron imagined everything he knew about muggle dentistry - granted, not a lot - and had to bite down on a shudder. He knew he would, in the near future, be facing rather long needles and other pointy objects. And they would be in his mouth. Voluntarily.

He jerkily opened the door to his side and nearly collapsed onto the concrete beside the car. He swallowed hard to quiet the butterflies that were causing his stomach to churn.

"Now. We're going in now." he told himself.

Hermione, having walked around the car to him, grabbed him by the arm. She slowly directed him across the street and then up the path that led to the entrance. Just at the door, she leaned over and whispered in his ear.

"You're going to have to do all the talking."

He paled in response to that, looking as though he might wet his pants if he had to _talk_ , risk making a fool of himself, and then have all of his teeth ripped out one at a time. All by her mother.

She burst into laughter. Then, catching herself, she landed a kiss on his cheek and pushed the door open.

A bell sounded out, and Ron jumped.

"Ron, you'll be fine. Your teeth will feel clean and healthy. Besides, I'm just kidding about making you talk. I'm not _evil."_ she said. Her slight humour did nothing to placate him. He didn't have the power for another glare, so he took a few shaky steps forward, numbly extended an arm in greeting to his mother-in-law, and then tried not to focus on his life flashing before his eyes as they pushed him into a positively _medieval-_ looking chair.

"Shall I give him some anesthetic?"

Hermione gave him a look, squeezed his hand, and answered for the mute Ron, "Yes, Mum. Er, perhaps a double dose."


	9. Overeating Together - Harry and Draco

_First time overeating_

* * *

Blinking blearily and trying to lift his head from the back of the sofa, Harry groaned. His stomach protested every small motion, bloated and in pain as he rested one hand on it.

"Potter, are you sure you're not still trying to kill me?" Draco asked, sounding just as queasy as Harry felt.

"I was never trying to kill you. I just thought you were going to kill me." Harry explained. "But please tell me we're not going to have this argument again when I can't properly move to hit you for being a right prat when we were in school."

Draco gasped in mock indignation, and then sputtered when he felt the jolt in his stomach at the sudden action.

"Fine." He surrendered when the discomfort had subsided slightly. "But I cannot believe we ate so much."

"I can't believe you ate _more."_

There was a clear attempt on Draco's face to find one of his trademark sneers, but he only managed to wrinkle his nose.

"I did _not_ eat more."

"Sorry, but the evidence doesn't lie. I'd like to direct your attention at the - let's see... six empty boxes beside you. Now, let's look at the four boxes next to me."

Draco gaped, jaw slack, and shook his head in disbelief.

"Impossible."

Harry, excited when Draco had finally conceded and agreed to try some muggle take-out, had mis-ordered and accidentally ended up with a meal fit for ten people instead of two. More shockingly than the amount of food - which a younger Harry would have considered exceedingly obscene - was that they had proceeded to eat it all in Harry's flat.

"Harry," Draco whispered, looking positively miserable in his muggle clothes. "I don't even know what I just ate."

"You have to admit it was good." Harry tried to shift his weight and move closer to Draco, but his stomach gurgled in warning and he halted his movement. Still, he reached out a hand to poke Draco's thigh.

Draco sniffed. "It was only good in comparison to other imitation ethnic food that can be purchased for laughable sums. Not that I've tried any or have anything close to an urge to do so."

"Good enough for me." Harry said. He removed his glasses hesitantly, rubbed at his eyes with the other hand, and tried to relax.

"Do you realize that every decision I've ever made has led me to this... _mistake_?" Draco whined. Harry realized that Draco was right, and found the whole thing somewhat absurd. "I _defected_ from _Voldemort_ for this!"

Harry laughed loudly, replacing his glasses on the bridge of his nose, but was quickly silenced again by the protest from his stomach. It seemed everything but silence and motionlessness upset it.

"Promise me we'll never eat that much again," Harry whispered. Draco had to agree with the sentiment.

"No." the blond said. "Promise me we'll never eat again. I think I've had enough to last me multiple lifetimes."

They sat, equally full and groggy, when something occurred to Harry.

"Oh _shit_ ," he whispered, "we still have dessert."

Draco's fist came out of nowhere, smacked into Harry's arm, and the message was clear.

"Mention food one more time and the next punch will be to your stomach." Draco said threateningly.

Harry shut up, terrified.


	10. First Move - Lily and James

_Godric's Hollow - for the School of Prompts Challenge at HPFC. 1/3 of the story must take place here._

 _First move_

* * *

"You've been skittish all evening. James, what's wrong?" Lily's soft care grated on his nerves, which were already raw, and James felt a little faint.

They were in a little restaurant, one they frequented often. It was out in a muggle neighbourhood that Lily knew from the time she'd been a little girl. It was something of a tradition for them.

"Well, I've been thinking," he began hesitantly, "and I thought I might just take the opportunity and ask.. and ask..."

Lily's cheeks had flushed a delicate pink, though she looked down at her plate and carefully stuck her finger into a little piece of chicken with feigned indifference.

"Would you move in with me?"

* * *

James shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking rather uncomfortably at Lily's father, who stood across the room from him and was giving him a particularly intense glare. Lily, who usually shielded him from her father, was upstairs with her mother, packing some things.

"Lily promised to call us. You _will_ have a phone, won't you?"

James nodded. "We will, sir. It's a very nice house. I'd, er, love to have you visit once the danger is over."

The older man softened at that, looking at him with worry rather than scrutiny.

"I don't know what it's like out there in your world," he said, "but I trust you'll keep Lily safe. I just wish we could know the address -"

"You know that we have to keep it secret. Lily doesn't want anything to trace back to you."

A sigh. "You love my daughter?"

"With all my heart," James said.

"Then it'll all work out, I'm sure. Good luck."

* * *

Godric's Hollow was quiet and filled with an ethereal magic that made Lily reach for James' hand. She smiled at him, tucking a tendril of hair behind her ear. It was a bright, warm day.

"We'll be out of harm's way here," he said. "Somewhere to come when staying with the Order becomes impossible."

"I hope you're right. James, do you think we might have a family here, one day?" Lily asked, sounding hopeful. "Once we win the war?"

"You'll have to agree to marry me first," James said lightly, "or your father might have a heart attack."

They laughed together.

"You'll have to ask me again when you have a marching band to rival the time you asked me out and I finally said yes."

For a few long moments, they looked on at their new home. Then, with heady excitement erasing the war from their minds for just a few moments, they moved their boxes of belongings with quick spells.

Together, they opened the door and stepped over the threshold of their house, one that held within it the promise of love and comfort. Before anything else, they kissed in the empty room, parting with mirrored grins on both faces. There was a lot to come, but at least they had each other.


	11. First Bug Incident - Hermione and Ron

_First time getting rid of a bug for the other person_

* * *

Hermione, wand in hand, approached the door to the bathroom. Her heart was pounding at the sobbing and shouting that had come from behind the closed door just moments earlier, yanking her from her book and warm bed. Ron had been taking a shower, and the sudden, suspicious silence made her swallow against the dryness in her throat.

"Ron!" she called for the second time, and still there was no answer.

With a million curses ready for Ron's potential assailant, Hermione turned the handle and pushed the door open.

Steam came forward, heavy in her lungs as she forayed into the small tiled room. It took her a moment to find Ron, because he was sitting, curled with his knees to his chest, pressed into the farthest corner of the bath. He was almost as pale as the porcelain.

"What happened?" Hermione asked, taking steps forward and lowering her wand in light of the invisible reason for Ron's distress. "Ron, are you all right?"

He shook his head and met Hermione's eyes with a look of fright, slightly unfocused and unblinking. Hermione's stomach lurched as she wondered if the stress of the war might finally be catching up with him. Infinite reasons for his behaviour filtered through his head, each more worrying than the last. She felt control slip from her fingers.

Then, very slowly, she watched him raise one finger, extend his arm, and point to the opposite wall, where the shower-head protruded from the wall.

Following the motion, her eyes focused on a small yellow spider that hung from a fine thread and swung gently. Little droplets of water were stuck to the invisible fibre, and the little legs of the spider curled and extended as it struggled to find a surface to walk along.

"A spider, Ron?" Hermione deflated, confused.

"I-I washed it down the drain and it's managed to climb back out - twice!"

Hermione stifled a small laugh, pointed her wand at the spider. Was he or wasn't he a wizard? With a whispered levitation charm, she floated it in front of her to deposit the small spider on the windowsill of their bedroom. She closed the previously open window to shut the small spider out.

"You know," she said, returning to the bathroom, "spiders are supposed to be omens of good luck."

"Rubbish." Ron's face was red, finally coloured after the ghostly, pasty white from earlier. "They're horrible creatures."

"You'll have to be glad I'm around," Hermione said, "if only because I'll get rid of the spiders for you."

Ron gave her a grateful smile, finally standing on shaky legs. He was wet, droplets of water running down his body in rivulets. He was shivering slightly.

Hermione feigned looking around, squinting for good measure.

"Hmm," she announced, "perhaps I should stay with you... protect you from any more bugs."

"I love you," he whispered reverently. Ron grinned and extended an arm to her. Then, his face twisted in a fabricated look of fear and he raised his other arm in a dramatic gesture against his forehead.

"Oh, Hermione," he breathed. "You'll have to join me in the shower. You can't protect me from all the way over there."

Hermione was glad that his fear and the little incident with the spider had been mostly forgotten, removed her nightgown, and stepped under the stream of warm water with Ron. They'd been living together for little over a month, having just moved from the Burrow, but Hermione doubted the excitement would ever wear off.

"Thanks," he said just above her mouth so that she could feel warm puffs of air. "After that heroic effort, I _must_ make it up to you."

Hermione's answer came in the form of a firm, determined kiss, and she idly hoped for some more spiders to give her some good excuses in coming days. With Ron so close, sensation overtook her and bright warmth settled in her chest.


	12. Time Travel - Sirius and Remus

_9\. Time travel, 'Who's the new guy?'. For the year long scavenger hunt at HPFC._

 _Worry - 3/50 for the Time Travel Bootcamp Challenge._

 _Lost - 14/50 for the OTP Bootcamp Challenge._

 _Genre: fantasy - for the School of Prompts Challenge._

 _First spontaneous time travel_

 _Warning for sexual reference._

* * *

Sirius, whose hips had been locked as his jaw clenched furiously, finally relaxed back on the bed. Remus, above him, looked at him with wonder in his eyes. They were both breathing heavily, desperately trying to regain full control of their bodies. Suddenly, Remus was stretching up, pulling off of Sirius. Then, with a sudden thud, Remus was collapsing on top of him.

Breathless, he said, "Padfoot, that was-"

Sirius grinned as Remus broke off to place a kiss on his chest, just above his heart.

"I know. Incredible." Sirius returned.

His heart was pounding and he was sure Remus could feel it, and there was something so freeing about having Remus so close to him. The sex was magnificent, that was indisputable, but the _cuddling_ was just perfection. There was a quiet security that came with being held in Remus' arms, a peace that lulled them both into a very soft sleep.

Some time later, bleary eyed and feeling for all the world as though he could happily sleep straight through the next week, Sirius nudged at Remus to get up. James and Peter would probably be waking soon, and they weren't quite ready to tell them about what they'd found with each other. Their relationship was, so far, secret, and it wouldn't do to just be waltzing around, leaving each other's beds in the mornings...

"Get off me, Moony," Sirius whined, realized they hadn't cleaned themselves up. His foggy brain slowly started to clear again.

Remus only grumbled incoherently, throwing an arm over his eyes. Sirius decided he'd have to tickle him later.

The muscles of his thighs seized as he hauled himself upright, sitting to reaching one arm out to find the pyjamas Remus had peeled off of him earlier. He noted that they were sticky with an unnameable substance, laughing despite himself because they were always so careless about those things when they got carried away.

First, he'd clean some clothes and his body. Then, he'd have to go to the bathroom to relieve himself.

Sirius, grabbing the first wand to fall under his hands, quickly got rid of the offending substance, which was congealed and rather unappealing. Pulling on a shirt, he whispered the counter-charm to the privacy and locking spells they'd cast earlier on his hangings. He pulled the material back, tugging his boxers over the curve of his arse as he stood, and then froze in place.

A very freckled, red-headed boy was staring at him from James' bed, looking mystified.

"Oi, Moony," he called over his shoulder. When Remus mumbled some kind of response, Sirius asked, "Who's the new guy?"

That hauled Remus right up - apparently fear could bring him back from comatose states, that was interesting - and he stared, just like Sirius, for a moment. Sirius jumped when Remus gasped, and then Sirius was tumbling backward onto the bed, the curtains were being spelled shut, and Remus was muttering to himself.

The last thing Sirius saw of the mysterious intruder was a reddening of his face as he stood, opening his mouth to yell something.

There was the sound of a struggle, and the curtains rustled as whoever-it-was pulled at them. Remus' charms didn't give way. In fact, Remus even grabbed Sirius to stop him from responding, covering his mouth with one hand.

Sirius briefly considered licking it, thinking it might get Remus to release him, but couldn't remember exactly where those fingers had been just hours earlier, so he decided against it.

"This - this feels wrong." A pause. "Sirius, I think we've time-travelled."

Sirius, finally understanding something, looked back at Remus. "So... that feeling earlier..."

" _Wasn't_ just the best orgasm of your life. It was-"

"Blimey."

Remus was shaking beside him, and Sirius met his gaze to find fear there.

"What if we can't get back, Sirius?" Remus asked weakly. "Who knows where we are?"

"What were you thinking about when you transported us here?"

Remus reddened, though the effect was lessened by the Gryffindor curtains that surrounded them. The din from outside the bed was growing louder, and he heard some angry shouting. Sirius ignored everything but Remus.

"I was thinking about getting us out of the war."

Silence. Sirius felt love grow and heat up inside him, and he couldn't help the kiss he pressed to Remus' lips.

"You need to wish us back to our friends and your family, silly werewolf," Sirius whispered, pushing on Remus' chest. The other boy gave little resistance before falling backward, and even grabbed hold of Sirius to pull him down on top. "We're Gryffindors for a reason. We'll make it through the worst of it together, I promise."

The fervour in Remus' eyes told Sirius of the protectiveness Remus harboured for him, who couldn't help but grin at the sentiment.

Of course, he wanted them safe as well. Unfortunately, travelling in time away from everyone they knew, no matter how good the sex that got them there was, fell strictly out of the question.

"I promise something else," Sirius said, mischief creeping into his posture as he lifted his chin and one eyebrow. The shouting from outside had increased in pitch and urgency, and a second voice had joined it, but he continued ignoring it resolutely.

"What's that?"

"I promise that this will be so good you won't be walking straight for decades."

Remus' breath hitched as he wriggled himself into a good position beneath Sirius, all smooth muscle and hot skin.

" _Prove it._ "

* * *

"How far d'you reckon we've travelled now?"

Remus shrugged, and Sirius felt the gesture more than seeing it. The rumble of Remus' voice echoed in his chest.

"I dunno, but I was concentrating as best as I could. I kind of... lost my train of thought by the end, but I think we can safely say that you've fucked me into at least a new year."

"Ha! _Told you_. _"_

They'd read about werewolves and their primal magic, very tied to sexual acts, but the sparse records hadn't been entirely believable. As it was, they'd directly experienced the phenomenon, and the novelty of that clearly hadn't worn off. Their lazy, post-orgasm touches and kisses were loaded with excitement, though they were both clearly anxious.

They held each other tightly, unwilling to check what - or _when_ \- lay beyond the curtains.

The inevitable interruption came, taking the choice away from them.

"Remus, Sirius, get out from the bed!" Peter.

Remus groaned against the crook of Remus' neck. Still, they both shared the overwhelming relief that they were back in their time.

"We know you're both in there - we're not idiots." James' tone left no room for protests, and a sheepish Sirius and Remus undid the charms a second time and emerged, glad to recognize the occupants of the dormitory.

"Merlin, will you wipe the smirks from your faces?" James sounded scandalized. "I'd like to keep my mind free of _horrific_ images this early in the morning."

He shuddered.

Remus and Sirius exchanged a look and burst into laughter.

"Oh, good morning to you, James," Sirius said through bursts of laughter. The other boy looked confused for a second, but it didn't last. Panicked protests started up when Sirius and Remus approached to embrace him and Peter, hands outstretched with matching dangerous expressions.

"No - I don't want a hug, please - don't touch - Good Godric Gryffindor, _at least wash your hands_!"


	13. First Argument - Harry and Draco

"Don't whine," Draco said, "it's unbecoming."

"You're just angry I won't have dinner with your mother."

Draco scowled. "I know. You've made that abundantly clear." He shrugged off Harry's placating touch, turning away from him and pulling the covers tighter to his chest. Harry stared up at the ceiling. "I only wish you respected some tradition."

Harry turned on his side, leaning his head on one hand and holding a lumos over their heads.

"We're not exactly traditional, are we?" Draco didn't smile, cheeks pink. He practically smoked at the ears. Harry thought quickly. "Look, I know it's important to you, but understand my hesitance to feign politeness all through—"

"I had drinks with your friends," Draco spat the word, glaring at Harry over his shoulder, "and I haven't developed a rash, have I?"

"Harry sighed. He couldn't believe what he was about to do, but it was a sacrifice he had to make. Maybe it really was time.

"All right." His teeth clenched as he spoke, his entire body resisting the idea of acquiescence.

Draco stared straight into him, pale eyes piercing in the dim light. "Really?"

"I'll do it." Harry whispered. "For you."

"Draco smirked. "Ha," he said, "I knew the guilt would work." He turned back around. "Bloody typical Gryffindor."


End file.
